If I’ve been quiet on here lately, it’s not for lack of activity elsewhere. Between the recent holiday, working extra shifts, a freelance assignment that I’ve only just sent off last night, and the few other personal projects I’m working on, I’ve spent plenty of time in front of my computer screen – just not here.
And – speaking of personal projects, a moment of inspiration has me putting together a new, visual blog that I’ll hopefully be ready to reveal soon. I want to see first if I’ll even be able to sustain it, but I’m excited to have a new venture to delve into. And I’ve always been more proficient with visuals than with words (not to say that I won’t stop spewing those out here though).
I seem to be in a state of transition. A few weeks back, I felt rather like Grendel. I felt about as personable as a snake, spitting and hissing curses at the people around me. Now I’m mostly just bemused by thoughts and considerations of where I fit in here, where I belong, and where I’m heading.
It sounds a lot more grandiose than it is.
And granted I’m just about at the four month mark of living in San Francisco. Not to mention that given my anti-sociality (which no one believes of me, but which is nonetheless very much true), I shouldn’t be surprised that I haven’t widened my sphere of acquaintances. I am just looking at the kinds of things I want to be able to do in the city – trails to hike, places to climb, museums to peruse – and wishing I could be better about reaching out to the people I already do know to engage in these activities with me.
I feel a transition in the blog, as well. It seems a lot more…stifling here lately. My growing transparency between blog persona and local presence must account for some of that. I will have to reconsider what I want this place to be about, and the content that is appropriate for it. I’ve never had to consider this before; but then I’ve never been so transparent, and I’ve never enjoyed attention directed at myself. I’m starting to consciously abstract and generalize more, and it’s less possible to talk as freely here as it once was. It may be time to head towards more obscure waters again – to reinvent my anonymity.
Well, alright, I’ve spouted enough for tonight. Time to hit the hay and forget all these silly little burdens of mine for a little while.
I should be ecstatic.
First of all, a few days prior, I booked a flight home for the winter holidays, with a weekend stop in Seattle on the return trip to visit with Max and see a few other friends I made on my first pass through the city. And I very much look forward to that weekend. It also means I’ll be able to attend one of Max’s workshops, which occurs a few days after New Year’s and just so happens to be one of my favorite topics: escape bondage.
Secondly, yesterday a group call Screwup held its monthly workshop at Wicked Grounds. Screwup is advertised as “BDSM for trannies, genderqueers, and their friends,” and yesterday was the inception of the move to have their workshops at the café. And because the focus of the workshop just happened to be rope bondage, and because the instructor just so happened to be Fivestar, I was eager to attend it. The class itself was fun, and an older, rather attractive dyke sitting next to me kind of hit on me, but the highlight of that evening was unquestionably after the class had finished and most people had left. Chatting with Fivestar, I expressed my disappointment in not getting tied up when we’d split into groups to practice.
She asked if I would like to be tied up, and I nodded enthusiastically. After a few minutes of her untangling her rope and laying it out, I was getting a chest and hip harness put on me. She put me in the same suspension tie seen in the photo of her in the SF Guardian. Except with clothes on.
It was wildly exhilarating, being suspended in the café while, just a few feet away, the espresso machine ground out coffee, people sat on their laptops and sipped from ceramic mugs, and more customers stood in line waiting to order.
I never wanted to come down.
But half an hour later, I was out of the ropes and driving down Mission Street, Psychokitty at my side. We stopped by the Kinky Salon to drop off coffee for their Saturday night party and as a late-night date (and this is item number three). I’d agreed to go to the Salon before discovering all that much about it, but its title as a swinger’s sex club made me more than a little apprehensive. Nonetheless, I’d told myself that I needed to get out more and beyond my comfort zone, so we went, arriving at the completely nondescript door and up the stairs to a dimly lit entrance room.
Despite the immediate dress code faux pas of my wearing jeans, which we addressed by my simply getting rid of them, I had an enjoyable time at the Salon and was treated to a wonderful Cabaret show to end the night.
And thus ended an incredible, packed Saturday.
And finally, I am eagerly awaiting my recently ordered spool of ~150 ft raw, 6mm hemp rope, as well as the family photo book I recently put together online as this year’s Christmas gift.
I should be ecstatic.
Yet…despite having so much to look forward to, and so much goodness that has happened in the past few days, why is it that all I want to do is curl up in a corner and cry?
Today’s HNT celebrates the hardware that goes into making most of these photos: my Nikon D60. But I couldn’t help making a little bondage experiment out of it.
I am completely enamored by this camera and the amount of control it gives me of the picture. Of course it is only a starter DSLR and may be limited, but having no experience with any of the newer DSLRs, I don’t mind not knowing what I’m missing out on. This baby’s perfect for what I use it for, and I doubt I’ll ever go beyond amateur photography. I’ll always love taking photos, and I haven’t even really explored the full breadth of what all the manual options have to offer.